Riley's Diary
Riley's Diary-Keep Out!! (especially YOU, Ever!)
I can't believe my parents are doing this! I can't believe this is happening-again! I was all set to have Emily over, she was in charge of the scary movie, I was in charge of the popcorn, and I promised my parents we'd steer clear of the Internet if we could just have the house to ourselves-but nooooo!!!
Apparently I need to be supervised.
Apparently I need to be babysat by my oh-so-mature sister, Ever.
I mean, sheesh! When are they going to understand that I'm not a baby? I am practically, almost, getting really, really close to being thirteen!!
Okay, maybe it's not really all that close. Maybe it's not exactly happening tomorrow. But, still, it's not like it's all that far away either, which means I am clearly old enough and mature enough to not need a babysitter. Just the word alone makes me crazy!
Baby + Sitter = Blech.
I mean, hel-lo, it's not like I don't know how to lock the door.
It's not like I don't know how to dial 911.
And, for the record, I am way past the point of taking candy from strangers.
Not to mention it's an insult to Buttercup. It's like saying he's not a good enough guard dog to look after Emily and me, when, I think it's pretty clear that he's way, way, way, better a guard dog than Ever could ever be.
Not that Ever's a dog or anything.
Hardly.
Must be nice to be so perfect and popular and pretty.
Must be nice to always get to be the one who's in charge.
Must be nice to live the teen dream.
Not like I'd know.
I'm just a ninety-pound, twelve-year old, with lanky blond hair, a sunken chest, and a semi-stubby nose. But someday, someday soon, I'll be a teen too. And, if I'm lucky, I'll turn out just like her-(if not better!)!
I can't believe my parents are doing this! I can't believe this is happening-again! I was all set to have Emily over, she was in charge of the scary movie, I was in charge of the popcorn, and I promised my parents we'd steer clear of the Internet if we could just have the house to ourselves-but nooooo!!!
Apparently I need to be supervised.
Apparently I need to be babysat by my oh-so-mature sister, Ever.
I mean, sheesh! When are they going to understand that I'm not a baby? I am practically, almost, getting really, really close to being thirteen!!
Okay, maybe it's not really all that close. Maybe it's not exactly happening tomorrow. But, still, it's not like it's all that far away either, which means I am clearly old enough and mature enough to not need a babysitter. Just the word alone makes me crazy!
Baby + Sitter = Blech.
I mean, hel-lo, it's not like I don't know how to lock the door.
It's not like I don't know how to dial 911.
And, for the record, I am way past the point of taking candy from strangers.
Not to mention it's an insult to Buttercup. It's like saying he's not a good enough guard dog to look after Emily and me, when, I think it's pretty clear that he's way, way, way, better a guard dog than Ever could ever be.
Not that Ever's a dog or anything.
Hardly.
Must be nice to be so perfect and popular and pretty.
Must be nice to always get to be the one who's in charge.
Must be nice to live the teen dream.
Not like I'd know.
I'm just a ninety-pound, twelve-year old, with lanky blond hair, a sunken chest, and a semi-stubby nose. But someday, someday soon, I'll be a teen too. And, if I'm lucky, I'll turn out just like her-(if not better!)!
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